Silhouettes and Cynicism
by XxColexX
Summary: Sometimes, Shikamaru wishes he could just stop thinking, for a change. It'd be a whole lot less troublesome. But then, he wouldn't be Shikamaru. Shikamaru contemplates life in a series of drabbles.
1. Indignation

**_Silhouettes and Cynicism_**

* * *

**Description: **Sometimes, Shikamaru wishes he could just _stop _thinking for a change. It'd be a whole lot less troublesome. But then, he wouldn't be Shikamaru. Shikamaru contemplates life in a series of drabbles.

**Warning(s):** Err, I don't know. There might some iffy language at times. This is rated "T" right now mostly because I'm not exactly sure what's going to happen. The rating may change, but if anything, it'll go down.

**Disclaimer: **All the characters and places mentioned belong to Masashi Kishimoto, and I bow down to him and his awesome mind.

* * *

Lately, whenever I look at clouds, all I can think of is Asuma.

His face.

His voice.

His laugh, even.

And whenever I think of Asuma, I seem to loose focus. I hate losing focus. It's…

Troublesome.

He was so much more than my sensei. I mean, I could say he was like a father to me, but that wouldn't be right. He _was _a father to me, plain and simple.

But now he's gone. And nothing can change that.

Of course it's not okay that he's gone; it's really not. But, what I'm trying to say, I guess, is that everyone dies. And, I mean, that's what happened to Asuma. He died. And I'm going to die, too.

You can call me morbid, but I'm just being honest.

Then again, the life of a shinobi is pretty morbid, isn't it? We're taught that death is inevitable as soon as we can talk, for the most part. And some parts of me find that very, very wrong. Other parts of me, though, know that it's the right thing to do.

You can't go through life thinking things that just aren't true—things that will never be true. That's the worst thing anyone could ever do. You can't just blindly accept things that you _think_ are real.

Obviously, no one wants to die. The whole idea of death sucks. But it's going to happen.

It happened to Asuma.

It'll happen to me.

It'll happen to everyone.

But just because it happens doesn't mean you have to be happy about it. It's okay to be indignant. It's okay to go down kicking and screaming.

I avenged Asuma for that reason. My persistent indignation is the reason why Hidan of the Akatsuki is currently buried underground, in hundreds of pieces, slowly starving to death amidst the dirt of my clan's forest.

But not even the sound of explosive tags blowing up the person who killed your _friend _can get rid of the terrible feeling that comes with losing someone you hold dear—and still _do _hold dear, even after their death.

I know it sounds cheesy but: Asuma will always be with me.

I could honestly care less about whether or not you believe in the afterlife, or if you believe in a god, or if you have a religion. Even if you don't believe that Asuma's watching over me, you _have _to believe, at the very least, that his memories are still with me.

And they always _will _be with me.

Until I die, that is.

_Anyway_, now that we've got that out of the way, I think I'm going to go back to cloud gazing.

The sun is setting, and the oranges and reds of Konoha's sunsets are pretty easy to get lost in. And that's why I love cloud gazing. It's a chance for my mind to stand still, to stop all the little gremlins in my head that insist on banging at the inside of my skull. But getting lost in the clouds is different from losing focus, which I already told you I _hate_.

Because whenever I'm looking at the clouds, I sometimes pretend that I'm one of them, just floating along, without a care in the world. And if I were a cloud, I wouldn't have to think of all this crap I'm thinking of now.

…Troublesome.

* * *

Hi, everyone! This is the first drabble out of what I hope will be many more. Some of these may get rather heavy, but I guess that's just Shikamaru.

I'd love to hear what you think. Or not. That's cool, too.

As of yet, there's no schedule for when I'll be updating, but my guess is that I'll get a new one up every week, if I can. It depends on how much work I have, though, unfortunately.

Thanks for taking the time to read this, and I hope you liked it! There's more to come...

-Cole


	2. Reckless Protection?

I don't think I've ever felt as obligated to protect someone as I do right now.

Sure, I'd protect my village, and everyone in it, even if it meant losing my life. But that's mostly because it's my duty as a shinobi.

That doesn't mean I'd do it happily, though. And it doesn't mean that I agree with carelessly throwing away lives, when you yourself know you have absolutely no chance of winning. I don't agree with hurling yourself into a self-induced checkmate. That's not dutiful. That's not loyal.

That's just stupid.

And it doesn't even make sense.

But that sort of duty is completely different from what I feel right now.

Because I absolutely _have _to do this. I'm not following some sort of ridiculous "shinobi code." Deep down, subconsciously, this is what I need to do. And I don't even find it troublesome. I almost enjoy it.

**I have to protect Asuma's child.**

It's my duty to protect her.

Kurenai says that I stress too much. She says that I don't have to worry about it.

But the thing is, I _do _have to worry about it. I could care less what Kurenai thinks. (I'd like it if you would refrain from telling her I told you that, though, because last time I got her mad, she put me in a genjutsu that involved Gai going on and on and on about THE FLAMES OF YOUTH and YOUTHFUL EXERCISES, and he just wouldn't _stop_. And whenever I tried to _get_ him to stop, he'd just start talking louder. Gah. The woman knows how to push my buttons, I swear. I blame it on the fact that she knew Asuma so well.)

And if anything were to happen to Asuma's daughter, I will have failed him, both as a student, and as a friend.

His daughter – her name is Keiko – is without a doubt the most wonderful little girl I've ever met. Sure, she's only a few months old, but I can already tell that she won't grow up to be all whiny and annoying like most kids. Plus, she almost never cries. I, personally, think that's amazing, but mostly because crying babies bug me.

But even if Keiko did cry a lot, I don't think it'd bother me.

I have a special connection with her. It's something that I don't think I've ever had with anyone else.

The other day, for example, I picked her up and swung her around in my arms for a bit.

And then she barfed on me.

But I didn't mind.

The thing is, if it were any other child, I would've gotten pissed. But not with Keiko.

And I think that's because of that special bond thing I was talking about.

Not to mention, I can't help but see so much of Asuma in her. I mean, again, she's only a few months old, but I swear that she has Asuma's smile.

She also has her mother's eyes—scarlet and beautiful.

I could see her growing up to be a powerful kunoichi some day. Maybe she'd be good at genjutsu, like her mom. Or maybe she'd be more like Asuma.

I don't know.

But I do know that the thought of her being a kunoichi scares me. The thought of letting her go scares me. And the thought of her getting hurt scares me more than anything. I have a lot of time before I have to worry about her getting injured in battle, though. And who knows—maybe she'll decide _not_ to be a kunoichi.

I'd be fine with that.

In fact, I'd probably prefer it. Then I wouldn't have to worry about her getting hurt. I'm already concerned that something's going to happen to her _now_…when she's three months old and her worst enemy is mashed peas.

Even _now_, I watch out for her whenever I can. I mean, I've made a habit of keeping watch outside of Kurenai's apartment, sort of guarding the place. I stay in the shadows. And I won't let anything get to Keiko _or _Kurenai.

It's sort of become like cloud gazing. Watching of the two of them, I mean. Not cloud gazing in the sense that I'm lying back and doing nothing, but cloud gazing in the sense that it gives me peace of mind. It makes me calm, knowing that they're okay, and knowing that if they were ever in danger, I'd be there to help them.

It gives me a sense of security, I guess. Which is odd, because I'm the one doing the guarding.

Kurenai _should _be able to sense me. But I don't know if she does. She's never said anything about it. Maybe she just doesn't care. Or maybe she likes the extra protection.

Then again, she's perfectly capable of fending for herself.

I don't know.

I don't know a lot of things, actually.

And not knowing sucks.

But one thing that I _do _know, more than anything else, is that I will always be there to guard Keiko. I have to.

I don't know why. But I do it anyway.

Is that reckless? Does that make me stupid? Is doing something without knowing why you're doing it any different than sacrificing yourself when you have no chance of winning?

I don't know.

I really don't.

I guess that's just another thing for me to think about.

But I don't find this one troublesome.

* * *

And that concludes another one of Shikamaru's thinking sessions that accomplishes nothing yet somehow accomplishes a whole lot of things...

I completely made up Asuma and Kurenai's child's name for this, in case you were wondering. And I made her a girl because I'm pretty sure Kishimoto said at some point that he was planning on make their child a girl.

And oh yeah, none of the characters belong to me, yada yada. The writing is mine, though.

Thanks again for reading. I hope you liked it, and I'd love to know what you think.

-Cole


	3. Drizzle

The other day was the anniversary of Asuma's death. It was drizzling.

I went to his grave and cried.

I lost track of time.

When I calmed down, I noticed another chakra nearby and nearly screamed. It felt so much like Asuma's.

But when I turned around to face the source, it was Kurenai. She was standing a few feet behind me. Her cheeks were scarlet and soaked in tears.

I walked over to her and hugged her.

"It stopped raining," I said.

* * *

****Super short one - I'm putting another up now.

Thanks for reading.

-Cole


	4. Monochrome

Everything's the same, really. Or at least as same as everything can be.

All that we see are the reflections of objects that we assume are there – worn out, typical wavelengths of electromagnetic radiation find their way to our retinas and present themselves to us as images.

There aren't any exceptions.

No person can see beyond the spectrum of visible light. We are bound to the unchanging constants, the shades of red and hues of blue, the greens and the purples and the oranges and yellows. The rainbow is colorful. But how long can something be colorful? How long does it take before it loses its gleam and its mystical novelty?

"Color is beautiful," someone might say.

And I suppose I might partially agree with that someone, maybe.

What we have is "nice." It allows us to survive. And I guess surviving is pretty beautiful, at least most or some of the time. Our vision lets us get by in a world that revolves around getting by.

But I want to do a damn lot more than "get by."

I'm sick of the palette. It's as if all of my paint has been mixed around by some deranged two-year-old, and all I see now is a haze, a blurry and unfocused stop-motion film of my life, coated, dripping in sepia.

And I can't take it anymore. I can't.

I want to see into the infrared, to gaze through the ultraviolet. I want to know what it's like.

But I can't. I can't.

When people see me avoiding work and sleeping, they immediately slap on the label "lazy."

I'm not lazy. I'm thinking. I'm thinking because I want to _know_.

I want to know more, I want to _see_ more.

And that's all anyone could ever want, really. To want to know more. To understand beyond the point of human understanding, to delve into something, to be capable of comprehending a shard of existence that no one else can.

We all want to be special.

But I don't know if we all are.

And I guess it's not knowing that makes me human.

I may be a shinobi; I may be able to see more of the world than most civilians, but the shades and hues that we see are all the same.

And it's because we're human.

Hopelessly, helplessly, monochromatically human.

* * *

Thanks for reading. I send fluffy clouds of appreciation your way.

-Cole


End file.
